


A Patchwork Family: Truth and Lies

by Lbilover



Series: A Patchwork Family Series [5]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, BAMF Sam Gamgee, Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 11:27:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9321431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lbilover/pseuds/Lbilover
Summary: A hobbit claiming to be Huan's rightful owner appears. What will Frodo and Sam do?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Because every boy - er, hobbit - and dog tale isn't complete without a story like this. And I love opportunities for Sam to go all badass in defense of his Frodo. :-) Chronologically this falls between _At the Sign of the Golden Perch_ and _Out of Shadow, Into Light_

_ Early Halimath, 1420 _  
  
“The Year of Plenty folk are calling it,” remarked Sam to Frodo. “Plenty of weeds, that’s sure enough.”    
  
They were walking with Huan through the Bag End garden, having returned home the previous evening from their three-week stay at Crickhollow with Merry and Pippin. Despite the arrangements Sam had made for the garden to be cared for in his absence, there were a distressingly large number of unwanted green spikes poking through the dark soil, courtesy of the soaking rain that had fallen several days earlier.   
  
“Looks like I know what my first job will be,” Sam said with a sigh. “I’d hoped to get started on some of the autumn planting today.” He began to roll the sleeve of his shirt up one brown forearm in a businesslike manner.   
  
“Poor Sam,” Frodo said sympathetically, “but you needn’t do all the work yourself, you know.” He set his chin at a stubborn angle that Sam recognised well. “I can help you.”    
  
“All right,” Sam replied agreeably, “but it’s going to be a hot day and there’s not a cloud in the sky. You’re to wear your hat, and no arguing.” Sam set his chin at an angle as stubborn as any Frodo could achieve. Some months earlier, when Frodo had first expressed an interest in helping him with the gardening, Sam had unearthed an old wide-brimmed straw hat of Mr. Bilbo’s from a cupboard and given it to Frodo to wear to protect his fair skin that burned so easily. “And don’t forget your gloves, Frodo,” he added. Sam had got him a pair of leather gloves, too, and altered the right one to accommodate the missing finger on that hand.   
  
“If I must.” It was Frodo’s turn to sigh. As he made his way back to the smial to fetch the loathed hat and gloves, Sam could hear Frodo say to Huan, trotting at his side, “I envy you, Huan. You can be out-of-doors without Sam insisting you wear a ridiculous hat.”    
  
As Sam went off to the garden shed, he was grinning.   
  
They tackled the vegetable garden first, and both soon worked up a sweat, though the damp soil gave up the weeds easily enough. As the sun climbed higher into the sky, Sam cast a covert look at Frodo where he knelt among the potato plants, carefully weeding by hand where the hoe could not reach. His face was flushed beneath the brim of the floppy straw hat (that Sam privately thought became him well), and there were dark patches visible on his shirt under his arms and on his back, but Frodo looked content, even happy, as he grasped a weed at its base with his good hand and pulled it carefully from the soil, shaking loose the dirt that clung to its roots. Catching Sam’s eyes upon him, Frodo flashed him a smile that held no hint of weariness, and Sam relaxed.   
  
Huan had gone off to do a little tour of his own and see what new rabbits might have taken up residence in the garden in his absence. He eventually returned, however, and flopped down in the shade of a bush. Stretching out on his side, he soon fell asleep, but from time to time one dark eye would pop open as if the whippet, too, felt compelled to check on Frodo’s well being. Sam smiled to himself. They were a pair, right enough, he and Huan.    
  
Settled into a steady rhythm of pulling weeds, shaking the dirt from them and then dropping them into the withy basket at his side, Sam’s mind began to wander. Those weeks at Crickhollow with Merry and Pippin had done Frodo a world of good- once he and Sam had finally got there that is, and once Frodo had stopped fretting over the bump on Sam’s noggin. While they were there, Merry received a letter from the Lady Éowyn, and Pippin one from Bergil, each containing much news of the doings in Gondor, Ithilien and Rohan, and it had been a real comfort, most especially to Frodo, to hear that all their dear friends were well.    
  
One morning, Sam and Merry had ridden over to the farm in Buckland that was shortly to become the Sandheavers’ new home. Sam had met Hal Sandheaver for the first time since Hal had knocked him unconscious in Stock. The farmer’s remorse over the incident was sincere and his heartfelt apology would quickly have earned Sam’s forgiveness had he not, after hearing Frodo’s account of what had occurred that memorable night, already forgiven him. Sam had walked the fields with Hal and helped him to decide what crops he should plant the following spring. The foundations of a firm friendship had been laid down; a friendship that Sam believed would endure.   
  
Still, it was good to be home again, he thought. Home. Sam sometimes had the urge to pinch himself when he went through the front door of Bag End as one with the right to do so any time he chose- with no need to go round the back or knock first. He had never dreamt when he left the Shire with Mr. Frodo all those months ago that he would ever be living in Bag End as Frodo’s own true love.    
  
A tenuous happiness held Sam in its grip. The days at Crickhollow had been filled with love, merriment and song. He recalled how the flush of wine and laughter had set Frodo’s eyes aglow as he sipped Old Winyards and listened to Merry’s amusing accounts of the latest gossip from Brandy Hall. Other than the fact that there was a small blue whippet curled up contentedly at his feet, it might have been a portrait of Frodo from the old days, the days before that accurséd Ring had taken hold of him.    
  
Sam finally dared look forward to a future in which such days would be the rule rather than the exception, and the dark days would become but a distant memory.    
  
With a start, Sam realised he’d been so busy wool-gathering that he’d not pulled a weed in some time. Shaking his head ruefully, he returned to his work. Thoughts of Frodo were a constant distraction- but Sam wouldn’t have it any other way. He couldn’t think of a better one, after all.   
  
Before many minutes had passed, however, Sam was distracted yet again, but this time it was by Huan. The little whippet had abruptly wakened and sat up. His head was raised alertly and his rose ears were held high, swivelling this way and that, as if to catch some elusive sound. He let out a short, sharp bark, the one they’d learned meant that he’d heard someone approaching. Sam and Frodo exchanged glances and grinned.   
  
“Reckon Pippin’s going to the window right about now?” joked Sam, and Frodo laughed.    
  
Frodo had laughed- indeed, nearly choked with laughter- when he had recounted to Merry and Sam the tale of how Huan had tricked Pippin into giving up his seat in the most comfortable chair in the parlour at Crickhollow.   
  
Poor Pippin had endured much teasing by the others after the incident but, far from taking umbrage, the irrepressible Took had instead taken Huan to his heart, claiming that such a clever dog clearly must be part Took. Merry had actually been a little jealous, and a spirited debate had ensued between the two cousins as to whether Huan was more Took or Brandybuck, a debate that had reduced Frodo and Sam to helpless mirth.    
  
Huan barked again, and stood, still as a graven statue in pewter as he gazed fixedly in the direction of the Hill Lane. Frodo sat back on his heels and said, “No trickery this time, Sam dear. It appears we do indeed have company.” He removed his hat and gloves, and wiped his sweating brow with a handkerchief before climbing to his feet. Sam got up, too, and went to Frodo’s side.   
  
They saw a hobbit making his way up the flagged path from the Hill Lane to the smial, and Sam, who did not recognise the visitor, asked, “Do you know who it is, Frodo?”   
  
Frodo shook his head; his curls, flattened by the straw hat, sprang free in wild disarray. “No, I’ve never seen him before. Well, it appears he has some business with us. We’d best go and find out what it is.”   
  
They walked to the picket fence to meet the hobbit who was by now mounting the stone steps to the gate. Huan, warier than ever of strangers after his kidnapping by Hal Sandheaver, stayed close behind Frodo, and hidden from view.    
  
The hobbit was clad in rough garments that were much soiled and worn, as if he’d been long on the road. He was short and wiry, dark of complexion and sharp of eye. Sam thought he must come from the Northfarthing, to judge by his Harfoot build, and wondered what business he could have so far from home. He was no tradesman selling wares, as Sam first suspected he might be, for he carried nothing with him but a walking stick and a small pack slung over one shoulder.   
  
“Good day to you,” said Frodo politely across the gate.    
  
With equal politeness, the stranger replied, “Good day to you, sir,” and touched grimy fingers to his lank forelock in a respectful manner. “Might you be Mr. Baggins, sir?”   
  
“Mr. Frodo Baggins, yes. And this is Samwise Gamgee. How might we be of assistance to you?” Frodo placed a slight emphasis on the word ‘we’, and Sam’s heart warmed.   
  
But the look in the stranger’s eyes as they turned briefly toward Sam dispelled that warmth in a flash. Sam didn’t like that look at all: it was sly and calculating, and reminiscent of Bill Ferny or Ted Sandyman at his worst. Whatever the stranger’s business might be, he was definitely not pleased that Frodo meant to include Sam in it. Well, Sam had no intention of opening his mouth unless Frodo gave him some sign that he wished it, but he crossed his arms on his chest and settled his feet slightly apart. He had absolutely no intention of going anywhere, and the stranger had best realise it.    
  
“Well now, Mr. Baggins,” the hobbit said, returning his attention to Frodo, “I reckon I’d best introduce myself. The name’s Till Burdock, and I come from north of Oatbarton.”   
  
“Indeed?” Frodo raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You’ve travelled far, Mr. Burdock. Oatbarton is a fair distance from Hobbiton. Your business with me must be important.”   
  
“Aye, sir, ‘tis that. I heard the news a couple of weeks ago, and came soon’s I was able.”   
  
“The news?” Frodo asked, mystified. He glanced at Sam, who shook his head slightly to indicate his own mystification.   
  
“About the stray dog you’ve taken in, Mr. Baggins. News don’t travel fast to where I live, and we don’t see many travellers passing through, but when we do, we like to have a good gossip with ‘em. That’s how I heard about your dog, you see, from someone as had been in Stock when you was there recently. I weren’t paying much attention to his jabber at first, until I heard it were a whippet- a  _ blue _  whippet. You see, Mr. Baggins, I own a blue whippet, or did, I should say- until he were stole from me.”   
  
Whatever Sam had expected, it was not this. His gaze shot to Frodo, and he could see Frodo’s right hand make a sudden movement toward the star gem at his breast. With a great effort of will, Frodo stopped himself before touching it, and dropped his hand to his side. But Till Burdock’s quick eye had caught the movement, and Sam could have sworn that he saw a furtive gleam of satisfaction there.    
  
_ Now what’s this all about? _  Sam wondered.   
  
“What you heard is true. Sam and I did take in a stray blue whippet last March.” Frodo remained calm and composed although Sam knew that inside he was wound tighter than a spring with worry.   
  
“Ever since I heard the tale, I’ve suspicioned that your whippet is my Blue, Mr. Baggins, and I did some asking round and heard as how he were a stray you’d taken in. Like I said, he were stole- last fall it were. Some o’them Ruffians took Blue right out of his pen one night while we was sleeping, and a terrible grief it’s been to me and my family.”   
  
Frodo had gone quite pale at these words, but he managed to maintain his composure. “I’m very sorry to hear that, Mr. Burdock,” he said quietly. “But what makes you so certain that we have your missing dog?”   
  
“Well now, there ain’t many blue whippets to be found in the Shire, Mr. Baggins, and that’s a fact. Stands to reason, don’t it, that if you found one, ‘tis likely to be my Blue,” Till Burdock replied. “But I reckon there’s only one way to know for certain. I’d take it as a kindness, Mr. Baggins,” he added, having apparently not noticed the small blue shadow lurking behind Frodo, “if you’d fetch your whippet and let me take a gander at him. I’d like to know, one way or t’other. We’ve missed our Blue summat fierce, sir, and it went hard with us, not knowing if he were alive or dead.” He drew his dirty sleeve across his face as if overcome with emotion, but Sam could not observe so much as a hint of moisture in his eyes or on his cheeks.    
  
“There is no need to fetch him; Huan is right here, Mr. Burdock. Huan,” Frodo called softly, and Huan emerged from behind Frodo to stand at his side. But the little whippet held his tail down between his legs, and his ears were pinned back: sure signs that he felt the tension that seemed to vibrate in the very air around him.    
  
Sam, observing Burdock closely, thought the hobbit was more than a little disconcerted by Huan’s sudden appearance when he’d clearly imagined him penned up somewhere. But he quickly scrambled to recover, and exclaimed, “Blue! Well, bless me if that ain’t him! That’s my Blue, sure enough. I’d recognise him anywhere. That white snip on his nose is unmistakeable!” He clapped his hands together and said, “I don’t know how I can I ever thank you, Mr. Baggins, for taking in my Blue in his time of need and caring for him. My family and me will be forever in your debt for helping us to get him back.”   
  
Frodo seemed incapable of uttering a word. He was now grasping the white gem with his maimed hand, having made no attempt this time to stop himself from doing so. He appeared utterly stricken, and Sam had to exert every ounce of self-control he possessed to keep from reaching out and pulling Frodo to him. Huan tucked his tail even further underneath him and gave a low whine, pressing against Frodo’s leg.    
  
“Here now, Burdock,” Sam began hotly, unable to remain silent any longer, but Frodo touched his sleeve with his free hand, and with difficulty Sam bit back the torrent of angry words that longed to pour forth.   
  
Frodo had regained mastery of himself, and there was not the slightest trace of a tremour in his voice when he replied, “As you can imagine, Mr. Burdock, this news comes as a bit of a shock to me and Sam. We’ve grown quite fond of Hu-  _ Blue _ ,” he choked the word out with difficulty, “and he of us. He has been with us for many months now and he has quite become a part of our family.”   
  
“I’m right sorry, Mr. Baggins, to give you such a shock,” he said, and Sam felt certain the words were specious. “But you’re a fair-minded hobbit, I can tell, and you’d not want to see Blue kept from his rightful owner, now would you. I raised Blue from a pup, and trained him an’ all. He’s a valuable dog to me, and my little ‘uns are that fond of him. Why, hardly a day goes by that one of ‘em don’t ask me, all pitiful-like, ‘Da, do you think our Blue will ever come home?’” He looked at Huan. “You’d like to see the kiddies again, wouldn’t you, Blue old lad?”   
  
But Huan made no move toward him, but remained pinned to Frodo’s side.   
  
Till Burdock tapped a forefinger against his lips thoughtfully as if in consideration. “Still,” he said after a moment, “I’m a fair-minded hobbit meself, Mr. Baggins. It wouldn’t sit right with me to take Blue away without giving you a chance to say a proper goodbye to him. I’ll tell you what,” he added as if struck by a sudden thought, “why don’t I come back tomorrow morning to fetch Blue? I’m afraid I can’t stay in Hobbiton any longer than that, seeing as how I’ve got to get back to my wife and little ‘uns, but I can spare one night.”    
  
“That’s very thoughtful of you, Mr. Burdock,” Frodo said steadily, though he’d flinched every time Burdock had referred to Huan as ‘Blue’, and his face had grown paler and more set with every passing moment. “Sam and I appreciate your kindness in giving us an opportunity to say... to say…” But the sentence trailed away, as if he simply couldn’t bring himself to utter the word ‘goodbye’.   
  
_ Kindness! _  Sam thought.  _ That’s not what I’d call it. _  A blaze of anger and indignation was burning in his breast, but he had a fair idea now what Burdock’s game was, and he didn’t mean to act in haste, but talk it all over with Frodo first.   
  
“I can see that Blue’s grown right fond of you, Mr. Baggins, and like I said, I’m a fair-minded hobbit. Seems the least I can do for you.” He smiled, such a smug, self-satisfied smile that Sam had to fight the urge to wipe it off that sly face with his fist. “Well, I’ll be off then, and let you get back to your business. But I’ll be back bright and early in the morning to fetch my Blue,” he added, and there was definitely a hint of a threat implicit in the words. “Good day to you, Mr. Baggins, Mr. Gamgee.” And, with another respectful tug to his greasy forelock, Till Burdock slouched away down the path.   
  
***   
  
There was silence as Frodo and Sam stared after the hobbit’s retreating back. Sam was a deal too angry to speak, but Frodo had the dazed appearance of one who has been dealt a mortal blow and is only just beginning to comprehend how badly he’s been wounded.   
  
“Frodo,” Sam said, finally regaining his voice, but Frodo, seeming not to have heard him, whirled and started half-walking, half-running blindly back to the smial, an anxious Huan at his side.    
  
_ Huan, _  not  _ Blue _ , Sam thought.  _ Never Blue _ . He hurried after them, and when they were safely inside, and the door was closed behind them, he said again, very gently, “Frodo.”   
  
“We’ll go to Rivendell.” Frodo spoke abruptly, jerkily, without even looking at Sam. He crouched down on the floor, and gathered Huan to him in a protective embrace as if he expected greedy hands to reach out and snatch the little whippet out of his arms at any moment. “Lord Elrond will welcome us gladly, and Bilbo will be delighted to see us.”   
  
“Rivendell?” Alarmed by Frodo’s words, Sam exclaimed, “Frodo, what-"   
  
“Or we could go to Gondor,” Frodo hurried on. “Aragorn will protect us. The King would never allow anyone to take Huan away from us.” Frodo’s face was white as chalk, but there were twin spots of bright colour burning high on his cheekbones, and his eyes were fever-bright and blazing with defiance. “We’ll have to leave at once, Sam,” he declared. “Before he comes back.”   
  
“Oh Frodo, my dear-"   
  
“I won’t give Huan up, Sam,” Frodo said in a low, fierce voice. “I don’t care what that Burdock says, I won’t. I’ll give away Bag End first and leave the Shire if I have to. Huan belongs with us now.”    
  
Then all defiance seemed to drain away, and he repeated in a broken whisper, “He belongs with us.” He bowed his head over Huan in an attitude of despair.   
  
Words were of no use, not the state Frodo was in. Sam fell to his knees on the hard floor, and wrapped his arms tightly around Frodo, who hid his face against Sam’s shoulder.    
  
“I’ve lost so much, Sam,” he said. “I can’t bear to lose him, too.” The words sounded as if they had been wrenched from the very depths of his heart.    
  
Sam rubbed his hand in slow, comforting circles on Frodo’s rigid back. “You won’t, Frodo-love, I promise you. And there’s no call to talk of leaving Bag End, neither.” Though his heart ached with love and pity, Sam added matter-of-factly, “You’re playing right into that villain’s hands, my dear; can’t you see that?”   
  
“What- what do you mean?” Frodo raised his head, surprise momentarily displacing the tearing grief that had nearly overwhelmed him.   
  
For answer, Sam eased away and took Frodo’s hands in a comforting clasp. “I’ll explain it to you over a cup of tea. We can’t have a proper talk crouching here in the hall, with poor Huan squashed between us like Pippin underneath that cave troll.” He held onto Frodo’s hands and helped him to his feet. Huan, looking a little squashed, as a matter of fact, shook himself vigourously from head to tail tip. Sam smiled. “My mam used to say that there was no problem you couldn’t fix with a cup of tea and a good natter.”   
  
“My mother used to say the same thing.” Frodo summoned a shaky smile of his own.   
  
“Well then, I reckon we should take their advice, don’t you? Come on, my dear.”   
  
Sam led him by the hand into the kitchen, and helped him into a chair at the table. It was a measure of Frodo’s upset that he allowed this without protest, and sank gratefully into the chair as if he felt too shaky to stand. Sam scooped up Huan and set him in Frodo’s lap. “There. You just sit and cuddle Huan for a bit while I make the tea. Poor lad- he knows you’re upset, Frodo, and I reckon he could use a bit of comfort himself. And we’ll not say a word about what happened until we’ve finished our tea. All right?”   
  
“All right,” Frodo agreed with unaccustomed meekness. He rested his cheek on the top of Huan’s head, but Sam could feel Frodo’s eyes following him as he moved around the kitchen, filling the kettle with fresh water and setting it over the fire, getting out the teapot and cups, slicing bread and cheese and tomatoes. The familiar routine was calming to all of them. And Frodo needed calming, that was clear. He so rarely allowed his emotions to get the better of him that he felt it all the more when he did. Sam’s burning anger against Till Burdock was damped down for the moment, but he intended to make him pay for how he’d upset Frodo.   
  
By the time the table was laid and the tea poured, Frodo seemed almost himself again. The comfort of stroking Huan’s soft fur, and the trusting weight of the little dog, asleep now on his lap, had helped, as Sam had hoped it would. Frodo ate with his good hand, and kept the other on Huan. Even more than the white gem at his breast, Huan was what he needed to touch right then.   
  
But a Frodo who was himself again meant a Frodo who was ready to ask questions, tea finished or not. “What did you mean, Sam, when you said that I was playing into Burdock’s hands?”    
  
Sam answered Frodo’s question with one of his own. “Tell me this, Frodo: if Huan went away tomorrow, and you didn’t set eyes on him again for a year or even longer, do you reckon he’d remember you when he saw you?”   
  
“Well of course he would,” Frodo said without hesitation. “He’d no more forget than I would.”   
  
“Then why didn’t Huan recognise Till Burdock when he saw him?” Sam asked simply. “Burdock claims to have raised and trained Huan since he was a pup, but Huan treated him like a stranger. He didn’t react to the sound of Burdock’s voice, nor to the sight of him neither. Don’t that seem odd to you?”   
  
Frodo’s eyes widened; his hand stilled on Huan’s side. “Why Sam, you’re quite right. Huan  _ didn’t _  react. But I never gave a thought to what it meant!”   
  
“No, you were too upset at the idea of Huan’s rightful owner turning up out of the blue and taking him away. And that’s exactly what that villain was counting on.” Sam added, “Why, he’s no more Huan’s owner than I’m the Mayor of the Shire.”    
  
“Oh Sam, are you quite certain?” There was a note almost of desperation in Frodo’s voice, as if he badly wished to believe Sam, but couldn’t quite bring himself to do so.   
  
“As certain as my name’s Sam Gamgee. What did he tell us that he couldn’t have made up easily enough? He even told us he’d asked around about Huan and how you’d come to own him. Now, I’ll admit that at first he had me fooled, though there was something about him that didn’t ring true. But Huan set me straight quick enough, and I tumbled to the truth.” He paused. “There’s another thing, Frodo. Do you recollect the day you came home with Huan, and you asked me if he had a family that might be looking for him?”    
  
Frodo nodded.   
  
“I told you then that I didn’t believe he’d had a family for a very long time, if he ever had. I still believe it, Frodo. I still believe that you and Huan were meant to find each other, and that his true home and his true family are right here in Bag End.” Sam could see the effect of his words on Frodo, see the lines of tension on his brow ease, the taut set of his shoulders relax. “Whatever Huan’s past might be, and I doubt we’ll ever find out the truth of it, one thing I know for certain is that Till Burdock had no part in it.”   
  
“Oh Sam, I’ve been such a fool,” Frodo exclaimed remorsefully. “I completely lost my head.”   
  
“Aye, well, I’ve been known to do that a time or two,” Sam remarked, and reached across the table. Frodo took his hand, and they stared into each other’s eyes. “When you love someone and think you’ve lost them,” Sam said softly, “it’s easy to lose your way.”   
  
“Sam.” Frodo kissed his hand and released it. There was no need to say more, or to speak of that dreadful time in Cirith Ungol. They both knew what had happened there.    
  
“What I don’t understand, though,” Frodo said, picking up his teacup, “is why he is going to such elaborate lengths to try and take Huan from us. It doesn’t make sense.”   
  
“Ah, but he don’t  _ really _  want to take Huan from us,” Sam replied with a knowing air.   
  
Frodo’s brow wrinkled with puzzlement. “Then… what  _ does _  he want?”   
  
“Money.”   
  
“Money?” Frodo repeated, startled.   
  
Sam nodded. “I may not be the cleverest hobbit in the Shire, Frodo, but I know a rogue when I see one. We ain’t dealing with no Hal Sandheaver now.  _ He _  truly fell on hard times and couldn’t see his way clear of them. He got flat out desperate. Till Burdock’s a different story altogether. That one is only out for himself, and he thought he’d found an easy way to trick you out of a tidy sum of money.”   
  
“But how?” Frodo still appeared puzzled.   
  
“I reckon like everyone else in the Shire he’s heard of the Bagginses of Bag End,” Sam said, “and all them stories about gold and jewels hidden in tunnels in the smial. Not to mention all the gossip since we got home. When that traveller in Oatbarton told him about you and Huan, and he asked about and heard how attached you are to him, Burdock got to thinking. Decided he’d hit on a perfect chance to make a tidy sum of money, enough to set someone like him up for life. So he invented a nice sad tale about how his dog was stolen and his poor children were pining away after him.” Sam gave a derisive laugh. “If that Burdock has so much as a single little ‘un I’d be surprised.”   
  
“I feel sorry for them if he does,” Frodo murmured, “if he really did set out to cheat us.”   
  
“He did,” Sam said firmly. “Pretending to be Huan’s rightful owner, and telling us he meant to take Huan away with him, well, that was just the beginning of his scheme. The next part had to do with him telling us that we could have an extra day to say goodbye to Huan, him being such a ‘fair-minded’ hobbit.” Sam snorted. “'Fair-minded’ my Gaffer’s petunias. What he was giving us, Frodo, was an extra day to fret. He was hoping we’d get ourselves worked up into such a state that by tomorrow, if we didn’t go haring off to Rivendell first, that is,” he smiled at Frodo, who blushed, “we’d be willing to do just about anything to keep Huan.”    
  
“My guess,” Sam went on, “is that when Burdock shows up in the morning, he’ll say as how he’s had a change of heart, thinking on how much you love Huan, and that he’s decided, reluctantly o’course, to let you keep him. Only he’ll want something in return, for he’s already made a point of telling us that Huan’s a valuable dog. That something will be money, mark my words. Now, if we didn’t know any better, we’d hand over whatever sum he demanded, and then off he’d go, having tricked us as neatly as you please.”    
  
“Why Sam, I think you must be the cleverest hobbit in the Shire!” Frodo exclaimed, and it was Sam’s turn to blush. “I’d never have suspected him of such devious behaviour.” He looked chagrined. “Why, if it weren’t for you, I’d have fallen right into his trap, and given him whatever he asked as long as it meant he wouldn’t take Huan away from us.”   
  
“I reckon once you’d calmed down and had a bit of a think, you’d have cottoned to him,” Sam said stoutly, although in truth he suspected that Frodo’s innate goodness would have kept him from ever suspecting Burdock’s true motives.    
  
Frodo smiled at such a display of loyalty, but shook his head. “I don’t think so. I expect by tomorrow I’d have been in exactly the state Till Burdock hoped I’d be. But then,” he added, “he didn’t count on  _ you _  being by my side, did he.”   
  
Sam ducked his head in embarrassment.   
  
“But Sam,” Frodo said, frowning now, “what  _ are _  we going to do when Burdock returns in the morning? It isn’t simply a matter of refusing to let him take Huan or of paying him so much as a penny to keep him. I’d hate to think that he might try the same kind of foul trick on someone else and succeed.”   
  
Sam hesitated a moment. “I’ve a plan in mind, but it don’t need you to work, just me and Huan. In truth, it’d be better if you weren’t there, my dear.”   
  
Frodo studied him thoughtfully, and Sam knew that he was gauging the extent of his anger at Till Burdock. “Perhaps I ought to be there. I don’t want you to harm Burdock, Sam. You know how I feel about hobbits fighting with each other.”   
  
“I do know, Frodo, and I don’t intend to harm him, only give him a good scare. But that’s why I need you to stay away, see, because if that rascal was to talk to you again the way he did today, I reckon I couldn’t stop myself from doing him harm.” Sam was deadly serious. “Promise me you won’t interfere.”   
  
Frodo capitulated. “Very well, I promise, though it goes against the grain, my dear.” As if sensing the discussion was nearly over, Huan stirred on Frodo’s lap, and opened his eyes. He yawned, and then sniffed the air hopefully. Frodo fed him a bit of cheese, kissed the top of his head, and set him on the floor. “I suppose we should get back to our weeding,” he said, standing and stretching.    
  
He winced slightly as his cramped muscles protested the movement, and Sam said at once, “We’ve done enough work for today, Frodo. How about I fill the tub, and you can have a nice long soak.”   
  
“Alone?”    
  
Frodo sounded disappointed, and Sam grinned. “I reckon I could do with a soak, too, come to think of it, and in our nice big tub. Those tubs at Crickhollow were a bit on the small side for sharing.”   
  
“I was hoping you’d say that.” Frodo came around the table, and hugged Sam tightly. “Thank you, Sam,” he whispered, and he wasn’t referring to baths or tubs.   
  
“There’s no call for thanks, Frodo, not betwixt the two of us,” Sam protested.   
  
“Nevertheless you have mine.” Frodo leaned forward and kissed him. “And Sam,” he added, with a slight smile, “there’s something you ought to know.”   
  
“What’s that?”   
  
“One day you  _ will _  be the Mayor of the Shire.” Frodo released him, and made his way to the door.   
  
Sam stared after him, dumbfounded.   
  
***   
  
Bright and early the next morning, while the dew was still sparkling on the grass, Sam and Huan were waiting in the quiet lane just out of sight of Bag End. Huan sat obediently at Sam’s side, wondering at this change in his usual routine. He and Frodo ought to have been out roaming the fields by now, enjoying the clear, cool morning; instead, Frodo had remained behind, and it was Sam who had taken him out but- only this short distance before stopping and bidding Huan to sit. Something was up, and Huan knew it. Unlike Huan’s gentle master, Sam had a temper that could flare white-hot, especially when he thought someone was trying to do harm to Frodo. But Sam’s anger, in Huan’s experience, was only aimed at those who deserved it.   
  
Hobbit and whippet didn’t have long to wait before the familiar wiry form of Till Burdock came into view, swinging his walking stick and whistling. At the sight of Sam alone without Frodo, he paused, but then continued on. As he drew near, he said without preamble, “Well now, I was expecting to deal with Mr. Baggins.” There was no respectful tug of the forelock for Sam, whom he clearly considered to be acting above his station. Sam supposed gossip about Huan was not the only gossip to have reached his ears. It seemed not every hobbit in the Shire held the respect for the Travellers to which he’d become accustomed.   
  
“Mr. Baggins is indisposed,” replied Sam calmly. “You’ll be dealing with me.” He placed a slight emphasis on the last word.   
  
A wiser hobbit would have taken note of the grim set of Sam’s face and the battered leather scabbard hanging from his belt, but Till Burdock was too busy considering the implications of Mr. Baggins being indisposed. “Upset about me taking my Blue, is he?” he asked with a hint of satisfaction. “I suspicioned he might be. I could see right off how fond Mr. Baggins is of my whippet. Stands to reason, though, don’t it. Blue always was a charmer from the time he was a pup.”   
  
Sam had to give Till Burdock credit. The hobbit had missed his true calling. He ought to have been a player with one of the travelling companies that went from town to town performing for the locals. “Aye, you might say Mr. Baggins is a mite upset. He don’t want to lose Huan nohow.”    
  
He hesitated, as if in indecision, and then tossed out the first bait. “Mr. Baggins and me discussed the matter last night, Mr. Burdock, and we were wondering if there’s any chance you might possibly reconsider, and let us keep Huan.”   
  
“Well now, I don’t know…” Till Burdock said as if unsure, but he was unable to hide the avaricious gleam that lit his dark eyes. “I’m right fond of Blue meself, Mr. Gamgee, and there’s my little ‘uns to consider… not to mention what a valuable hunting dog Blue is. I couldn’t just go  _ giving _  him away, now could I.”   
  
“We’d make it worth your while. Mr. Baggins has given me authority to discuss terms with you, if you’re willing,” Sam said, dangling more bait before Till Burdock’s greedy eyes.   
  
“Worth my while? You mean in coin?” Sam nodded, and the gleam turned to gloating, as Burdock took the bait like a trout rising to a fly. “I reckon it wouldn’t hurt to ‘discuss terms’, as you put it, Mr. Gamgee. I ain’t a wealthy hobbit, after all, and work’s hard to come by. We might arrive at a mutually acceptable arrangement.”   
  
“Somehow I thought you’d say that.” There was a grim irony to Sam’s words that was lost on the other hobbit. “But before we start ‘discussing terms’, there’s another matter we need to discuss first.” A hint of steel had crept into Sam’s voice.   
  
“Oh?” Burdock was suddenly wary. “And what might that be?”   
  
“Well, it’s this way, Mr. Burdock. You turned up here yesterday claiming to be Huan’s rightful owner, but you never offered us no proof. Now, Mr. Baggins and me don’t mean to be mistrustful, but after all, we’ve only got your word for it. If he’s going to pay you in coin for Huan, he needs to be certain that you’re on the level.”   
  
“Are you trying to call me a liar?” blustered Till, trying to hold his ground.   
  
“I didn’t say that. All I’m saying is that we’d like some proof,” Sam replied. “The world’s full of rogues, ain’t it, and you can’t be too careful.”   
  
Till Burdock swallowed hard. “What sort of proof do you want?” There was a sudden trickle of sweat running down his temple, and Sam felt a grim satisfaction at the sight.    
  
“You say you raised Huan from a pup and trained him. If that’s the truth, then I reckon he ought to come when you call him, don’t you? Huan’s smart as a whip, and he won’t have forgot you or your training.”    
  
“That ain’t fair,” Till protested angrily. “It’s been months since I’ve seen Blue, and besides I reckon my word ought to be enough.”   
  
“Then you reckon wrong. It ain’t enough for Mr. Baggins. Now Burdock,” Sam said in an implacable voice, “I want you to take ten steps backward, and then I want you to call Huan. And if he comes to you, well then, I reckon we can start ‘discussing terms’.”   
  
Casting Sam a venomous look, Till shuffled back ten paces as instructed, and then crouched down facing Huan. Awkwardly, he held out his arms. “Come, Blue,” he coaxed, “come on, there’s a good lad. Come to Till. You remember old Till, don’t you lad?”   
  
Huan didn’t budge. He glanced up at Sam as if to say, “Who  _ is _  this queer fellow, and why does he keep calling me ‘Blue’?” Sam bit back a grin.   
  
Till made several increasingly desperate attempts to call Huan to him, alternately cajoling, pleading and demanding, but Huan was supremely indifferent to every one. The little whippet’s attention remained focussed anywhere but on the hobbit opposite him. As far as Huan was concerned, Till Burdock might have been invisible.   
  
Realising that his beautiful scheme had just fallen in ruins about him, Burdock suddenly snapped. He leapt to his feet, red-faced and furious. “Why you mangy little cur!” he shouted. “Ignore me, will you?” and he started toward Huan with his walking stick raised.    
  
He took two strides but no more. A hobbit with clenched fists and brown eyes hot with anger had interposed himself between Till and his intended goal.    
  
“I’d think twice about that, if I were you,” said Sam Gamgee, and the sound of his low voice sent a chill through Till Burdock. His throat went dry.    
  
In an instant, Sam had seized the walking stick from Till’s hand and broken it in two across his knee. He threw the pieces aside. “You’re a liar, Till Burdock, a liar and a blackguard.” There was a ringing sound as Sam drew Sting from its sheath in one swift motion. The Elven blade gleamed cold and deadly in the sunlight and the blood drained from Till’s face. “It would serve you right if I ran you through right now.”    
  
Sam advanced steadily on Till, who backed away, whimpering, “D-don’t- please d-don’t kill me, Mr. Gamgee. I didn’t mean no harm, sir, I swear it.” He turned as if to flee.   
  
Sam grabbed hold of Till Burdock’s shirtsleeve to stop him, and whirled him round. He held Sting to the hobbit’s throat. Till was wide-eyed with fear; his teeth were chattering and his knees knocking.    
  
“ _ Didn’t mean no harm? _ ” Sam snarled. “You come here with your lies and tricks, trying to deceive Frodo Baggins, the best and bravest hobbit as ever lived, and you say you didn’t mean no harm?” Sam pressed the tip of Sting against the pulse that throbbed wildly in Till Burdock’s throat. “You’ve upset Frodo, and for that alone I could kill you.” He lowered Sting a fraction. “But I won’t, because he wouldn’t like it. Besides,” he added in disgust, “I wouldn’t soil this noble blade on the likes of you.”    
  
Sam dropped his sword arm, and gave Till Burdock a rough shove with his other hand. “Now go on, and get out of my sight before I change my mind. And if I ever hear that you’ve come next or nigh to Bag End, or tried your filthy tricks on anyone else, I’ll find you, Till Burdock, and it’ll go hard with you when I do, mark my words.”   
  
Till didn’t need telling twice. As if afraid Sam might indeed change his mind, he bolted down the Hill Lane toward Hobbiton, scurrying like a scared rabbit. Sam had a suspicion he wouldn’t stop running until he’d reached Oatbarton at least.   
  
When Burdock’s fleeing form had disappeared from view, Sam sheathed Sting, and looked around for Huan. The obedient little whippet was still sitting where Sam had left him, though he’d clearly been watching the proceedings with great interest. Perhaps it was his imagination, but Sam thought there was an approving gleam in those bright dark eyes as if he agreed whole-heartedly with Sam’s actions.    
  
“Here, Huan-lad,” he said, holding out his arms, and this time Huan had no hesitation in coming when called. He ran to Sam and sprang lightly up into his arms. “Well, I reckon that’s the last we’ll see of Till Burdock, and good riddance to bad rubbish, as my Gaffer would say.”    
  
He held Huan tightly for a few moments, burying his face in the whippet’s soft grey fur. A blessed feeling of gentleness and peace settled over him, chasing away the remnants of his anger. Animals were good for what ailed you, he thought, that was the truth and no mistake.   
  
He set Huan down. “Come on, lad. Frodo’ll be fretting, and we don’t want to keep him in suspense.” They walked back up to Bag End and, sure enough, the moment they came in sight of the smial, the front door opened and an anxious Frodo came out onto the porch.   
  
With a joyful bark, Huan ran to meet him, and the look on Frodo’s face when he saw Huan brought tears to Sam’s eyes.    
  
“Oh Sam,” Frodo said as he bent to pet Huan, who was dancing at his feet, his tail wagging madly, “thank goodness you’re all right.”   
  
“O’course we are,” Sam declared, blinking hard as he joined them. “And you don’t need to worry about that villain Burdock bothering us ever again, my dear. He knows what’ll happen if he so much as sets a toe in Hobbiton.”   
  
Frodo’s sigh of relief was heartfelt. “I’m so glad. But oh Sam, I was regretting my promise to you the moment you left, and nearly went down to see what was happening a dozen different times.”    
  
Sam put an arm around Frodo and hugged him. “Burdock’s ugly face ain’t something you needed to see, Frodo-love, specially first thing in the morning. Might have put you off your breakfast.”   
  
Frodo laughed and hugged Sam back. “Perhaps you are right. Though I suspect the real reason you didn’t want me there had nothing to do with my appetite.” Frodo kissed him warmly. “But you and Huan may keep your secrets, Sam dear. As long as you are both all right, I am content.”   
  
Sam unbuckled the sword from his belt. “I won’t need Sting no more,” he commented, giving the hilt an affectionate pat, and then he leaned the scabbard against the wall beside the front door. “Now, what do you say we take our dog for a proper walk?”    
  
“ _ Our dog _ ,” Frodo repeated, and beamed with happiness. “I think that’s a wonderful idea!”   
  
So, hand in hand, Frodo and Sam stepped down from the porch, and set out across the garden toward the Party Field, with a jubilant Huan bounding effortlessly ahead of them.    
  
And it seemed to Sam that the sun had never shone so bright.   
  
~end~

 

 

 

 


End file.
